


A Birthday

by r_lee



Category: Last Exile
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-19
Updated: 2010-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_lee/pseuds/r_lee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday Lucciola, don't tell Delphine, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Birthday

For as long as he can remember, the day of his birth has gone unnoticed and without celebration. Why should anybody keep track of it? He's only Lord Dio's servant and as such, insignificant and unimportant. From an early age he knew this was his lot in life, and he's grateful for the roof over his head and the food in his stomach and the clothes on his back. To ask or hope for anything more would be offensive.

The day is much like all the others. "Lucciola," Dio commands, "clean up my food."

He does, without comment or question. "Lucciola, braid my hair." That's the next request. "Pick out a robe for me, Lucciola. A clean one. No, not _that_ one, a prettier one."

Ashamed at having chosen the wrong robe, he bows his head but the transgression is forgotten in an instant.

"Lucciola, let's pretend we're famous pilots. You can be my navigator. I'll tell you what to do, and you do it!"

"Whatever you say, Lord Dio." Playing is something he was never taught and getting it right is a challenge, but he does his best. It's the only thing he can do.

"Lucciola, it's time for my lessons. Wait for me right outside the door and don't move a muscle!"

"Yes, Lord Dio." Halfway through the lesson Dio opens the door and peeks through only to find his servant still as a statue, expressionless, waiting as ordered.

"Good, Lucciola. It will only be another couple hours."

"Understood, Lord Dio." It doesn't matter that he hasn't eaten today, hasn't had even a sip of third water let alone first, hasn't had an opportunity to use the facilities. He's Dio's servant and he does as told. Even when Cicada passes by, he doesn't move a muscle. Those are his orders. Being thirteen, he decides, is no different from being twelve. And that was no different from eleven which was no better than ten, and so on back to the moment of his birth which will not be celebrated today.

When the door to the classroom finally opens again, an entirely exuberant Dio bursts out and grabs him from behind. "Come on, Lucciola! Class is over! It's time for play!" Dio, ever slightly younger, ever the child at heart, hugs far too tightly but Lucciola doesn't let the pain show. He's Dio's, given to him at an early age and as such, he'll do his master's bidding even when it hurts, even when it's unsavory, even when it's unfair. And Dio is often unfair; one time during play he tied Lucciola to a column, got bored, and left him there for the better part of a day. When he remembered what he'd done Dio was cross. _Lucciola, didn't you hear me? I've been calling for you all day. You've made me quite angry. Now I think I'll just leave you there._ And he did, too, until the next morning.

There was no apology. It was simply business as usual after that but still, he remembers the day Lord Dio pronounced them friends and he holds onto that with all the hope and yearning his indentured soul can muster. Whatever friendship is, he wants that with his master. After all, Dio is the only person he spends time with, outside of family. And Cicada is far too busy attending to the Maestro Delphine to have a care for his younger brother. That's the way of things in the Guild, the way it always has been and likely the way it always will be. At any rate, it's not up to Lucciola to change that.

When Dio pulls him sharply by the hand to a room covered with drapes and curtains, he goes along as obediently as ever. Belonging to someone else is his lot in life and complaining about it would serve no purpose. This is a room the two of them have used for play since the time they were little and he was first given to Dio. Some of the best moments of Dio's life might just have taken place in this room; it's a place where he's seen his master smile and cry, laugh and pace, dream and plot. What he doesn't expect is the table set for one, a slice of cake (slightly dented and quite lopsided) on the plate with a candle in the top. Dio clasps his hand and pushes his servant forward. "It's for you, Lucciola! Happy birthday! I stole it for you! Don't tell anybody, especially not my sister!"

He doesn't know what to say, but the sting of unexpected tears weighs heavily in his eyes. They won't fall because he never allows that to happen. Most days he lives vicariously through Dio's rainbow of emotions but today when Dio laughs, it's for _him._ Because it's his birthday, which has never been acknowledged before, and because Dio risked the wrath of Maestro Delphine to bring him cake, and because his one and only friend in this world is right here. Moving forward to sit takes all his effort, but Dio's good at putting him into uncomfortable situations and so he does his master's bidding, sitting in the too-small chair at the too-small table, waiting for permission to eat his cake.

"Go ahead, eat it and remember, if you like it, let it show." Exuberant, Dio does a little dance around the room.

When he dips the fork into the ridiculously sweet concoction and lifts it to his mouth, the very _smell_ of it leaves his mouth watering; he wants to savor every moment of this. It's _his_ birthday and _his_ cake and he's here with _his_ friend. It doesn't even bother him when Dio reaches over, breaks off more than half the cake, and swallows it down. That first bite tastes like everything he's never had and the smile of gratitude is all in his eyes.

For once, his mouth is busy.

Filled with delight, Dio grins an inch away from his face. "Well, Lucciola, that's a start."


End file.
